The Head and the Heart

"I get lost in my mind
I get lost in my mind
I get lost."

I cant fight it
Myself that I know.

The scarecrow wanted a brain
the tin man needed a heart
the cowardly lion didn't have courage
and Dorothy just wanted to get back home
so they all followed the yellow brick road.

Loneliness may point to bad decisions.

“All I ever wanted was to reach out and touch another human being not just with my hands but with my heart.”
― Tahereh Mafi, Shatter Me

tags: compassion, empathy, loneliness, love

There is someone who knows this about me, who believes this about me, and for that person it's enough to love a long time. 

Happy Easter!

Message Revealed!

Some time ago,  I received a message.  I wrote it down and didn't think too much about it, not realizing where it really came from and what it really meant. I thought it was just another inspiring poem I was proud of writing. Time went on.
The rhythm of this poem always reminded me of the sound of a psalm in the Bible or something slightly Shakespearean. It rang out in my head day after day, and I wondered why. I left it out on my coffee table displayed in its tiny tattered mistakenly scrap-like look thinking the meaning would one day pop. The only thing I could think about it was that it must be referring to this desert city I was in, and how I wanted to plant and grow vegetables and farm so bad but couldn't because the desert soil was so dense, hard and dry.  I thought this came from my spite of the state I was living in geographically.
Time went on. Seasons changed. Circumstances changed. Physicalities changed. I put the little note in a box. I moved out of the desert. And later on I changed. All the while this poem or whatever it was lingered in the back of my mind. More time went on.
But at 3am on a very dark moonless night on top of a quiet mountain in the corner of the north American continent I was alone in my room grieving many things. Regretting many things I'd done.
Within a cloud of darkness, pain and hopelessness without joy. I fell down on my knees and begged God to speak to me. To help me. Somehow.
The flash in my mind at that instant was this tiny scrap piece of papaya paper with these words by now I had forgotten.
And in that instant, their meaning was revealed to me. This was not just a poem I wrote. It was not about my spite for the desert. I had not written this at all. In fact, it was written to me!
God spoke to me! Yes, that's right, this message is about me!
I was the thorns! God is the sower! And the peace, love AND JOY of Jesus, enduring through the trials of his life for us, is the seed! God was trying to tell ME something about myself way back then!
I was too busy being a thorn while wondering why my belief didn't flower! I believed, yet I suffered because I didn't know what I was missing. I didn't know I was the thorn!
I didn't know the Lord praised God even in His anguish, humiliation and suffering! I didn't get the other half of His message! Praise God in all things! And joy and blessings follow!
Had I been more "in-tune" would I have understood then? I don't know! But that doesn't matter! I understand now, Praise be to God!
During the years in the desert God blessed my life richly beyond my imagination. But I was a thorn. In my own side. I grumbled in pain over things I had no control over. I was caught up in a whirlwind roller coaster of emotions yet, God kept blessing me with so much, kept granting me trials, kept putting it in front of my face, saying "Be joyful in all things for you believe in Jesus!" "He is joyful! He is praising me! The Holy Spirit is joyful!" "He is with you!" "Praise me!" Accept the joy Christ felt even through his persecution!" "I love you, as Christ loved, and still does."
He wrote me this message though, in all my thorniness, in all my hardened soil, knowing, it would take a mountain that I would climb in order to understand it.
The mystery, glory, and joy of our Lord, Jesus Christ.
Praise be to God! 

The Greatest Artist Had to Outdo Himself.

The miraculous design creation and function of God's human race is the finest reaction to the creation of the Earth.

Praise.

For all things that are
For all that has happened
For everything
For everyone
For all pain discomfort and struggle
For all uncertainty challenge and confusion
For all joy happiness and love
For the darkness and the light
For life and for death
For all
Praise God!

Let's do that.
Let's put our things together,
Our papers and pencils and typewriters
And suitcases filled with ink and art
And the guitar and a drum
And call ourselves The Trumpets
And stand on the corner professing
Something about life and what it isn't
But at least we've got each other
To help us make believe its real.
Let's do that.

International Women's Day 2013

To all the woman in our lives.

2 Agreements

“The beginning of love is the will to let those we love be perfectly themselves, the resolution not to twist them to fit our own image. If in loving them we do not love what they are, but only their potential likeness to ourselves, then we do not love them: we only love the reflection of ourselves we find in them”
― Thomas Merton, No Man Is an Island

“The things you do for yourself are gone when you are gone, but the things you do for others remain as your legacy.”
― Kalu Ndukwe Kalu

tags: hope, inspiration, inspirational, life, truth

Talk about it

"Sometimes this human stuff is slimy and pathetic...
but better to feel it and talk about it and walk through it
than to spend a lifetime being silently poisoned."

-- Anne Lamott

Living the Dream Worn Out

5am alone
Train whistle blowing
Cold dead poverty
Frozen feet bitterness
Looking for my wisdom tooth
Frigid creaking bones
Insomnia alone
Queen Anne's hill
The stillness of truth

Total Eclipse

                                               
                                                       My experimental photography.

“We need others. We need others to love and we need to be loved by them. There is no doubt that without it, we too, like the infant left alone, would cease to grow, cease to develop, choose madness and even death.”

Leo F. Buscaglia quotes (American guru, tireless advocate of the power of love, 1924-1998)

"In Search of the Miraculous"

To see the roles, to know one’s repertoire, particularly to know its limitedness, is to know a great deal. But the point is that, outside his repertoire, a man feels very uncomfortable should something push him if only temporarily out of his rut, and he tries his hardest to return to any one of his usual roles. Directly he falls back into the rut everything at once goes smoothly again and the feeling of awkwardness and tension disappears. This is how it is in life; but in the work, in order to observe oneself, one must become reconciled to this awkwardness and tension and to the feeling of discomfort and helplessness. Only by experiencing this discomfort can a man really observe himself. And it is clear why this is so. When a man is not playing any of his usual roles, when he cannot find a suitable role in his repertoire, he feels that he is undressed. He is cold and ashamed and wants to run away from everybody. But the question arises: What does he want? A quiet life or to work on himself? If he wants a quiet life, he must certainly first of all never move out of his repertoire. In his usual roles he feels comfortable and at peace. But if he wants to work on himself, he must destroy his peace. To have them both together is in no way possible. A man must make a choice. But when choosing the result is very often deceit, that is to say, a man tries to deceive himself. In words he chooses work but in reality he does not want to lose his peace. The result is that he sits between two stools. This is the most uncomfortable position of all. He does no work at all and he gets no comfort whatever. But it is very difficult for a man to decide to throw everything to the devil and begin real work. And why is it difficult? Principally because his life is too easy and even if he considers it bad he is already accustomed to it. It is better for it to be bad, yet known. But here there is something new and unknown. He does not even know whether any result can be got from it or not. And besides, the most difficult thing here is that it is necessary to obey someone, to submit to someone. If a man could invent difficulties and sacrifices for himself, he would sometimes go very far. But the point here is that this is not possible. It is necessary to obey another or to follow the direction of general work, the control of which can belong only to one person. Such submission is the most difficult thing that there can be for a man who thinks that he is capable of deciding anything or of doing anything. Of course, when he gets rid of these fantasies and sees what he really is, the difficulty disappears. This, however, can only take place in the course of work. But to begin to work and particularly to continue to work is very difficult and it is difficult because life runs too smoothly.”  

- G.I.Gurdjieff
 P.D. Ouspensky, Chapter 12, "In Search of the Miraculous"

Bad Poems.

When the words don't present themselves in any other form but the mundane everyday passing language we use to clear our throats.

I'm Thankful.

I'm thankful for the roof,
I'm thankful for the walls,
I'm thankful for the bed,
and I'm thankful for the stall.

I'm thankful for the warmth,
I'm thankful for the clothes,
I'm thankful for the food,
And I'm thankful for the hose.

I'm thankful for the people,
The family, the friends, and the wanderers
I'm thankful for the words,
The kindness, the help, and the responders

I'm thankful for my eyes,
My ears, my mouth, and my nose
I'm thankful for my feet,
My legs, my knees and elbows
I'm thankful for my arms,
My hands, my fingers, and thumbs,
I'm thankful for my smile,
My lips, my teeth, and my gums.

I'm thankful for my skin,
My hair, my nails, and face,
I'm thankful for my senses,
My brain, my mind, and my love
I'm thankful for my soul,
My inspiration, my light, my heart
I'm thankful that I am God's
Working sculpture of fine art.